Sophia looked out at the windswept coastline, imagining the splintered hull of a pirate ship wedged between the jagged rocks. She used the strokes of the paintbrush to bring her imagination to life on the canvas. She added a cannon to the deck and cannonballs to the debris on the beach, scattering some munition across the sand, remnants of a violent past.
There was something about the scene that called to her, especially the solitary figure still holding the ship’s wheel. A man she didn’t remember painting, eyes hidden by the shadow of his hat and long dark hair whipping in the breeze. Sometimes art worked that way, and she didn’t remember using her brush to ad rich details to the wreckage and the depth to the pirate’s expression. She smiled and couldn’t help herself as she added a woman standing next to him, skirts whipping in the winds. A woman that looked surprisingly like herself.
As the final stroke touched the canvas Sophia felt a gust of wind tear at her clothing and hair. The easel and canvas swayed with the wind, the paint shimmered as the world around her blurred in a swirl of sand, sea spray and flying painting. Sophia closed her eyes.
Archer leaned over the woman lying in the sand, his stormy gray eyes locked with her soft blue ones as she opened them. He reached out a hand to her with a knowing smirk said, “Welcome, my lady.”
Sophia feeling both terrified and exhilarated, smiled shyly back at the pirate and took his hand, “Thank you, kind sir.” She wasn’t sure how this was possible but wasn’t going to waste the chance to know the man.
“Well, my mirage, before the tide rises further, we need to get you further ashore.” Captain Calder looked down at the small hand in his and led her up the hill away from the water.
Sophia looked around a small camp, at the various casks gathered there, flour, sugar, tea and gunpowder. The shelter was built from pieces of the broken ship, ammunition and rifles tucked into every corner. This was a defendable position for an attack coming from the beach, and the hull of the shipwreck she’d been painting was no longer wedged between the jagged rocks. She finally asked, “Archer, where is your crew?”
He turned from the fire he had been stoking and stared into her eyes before answering, “I am all that was left.” Turning to look back at the fire and continued “They either deserted or were killed, about 50 nautical miles from here. I sailed the Wanderlust to the shore by myself but lost her in the rocks.”
Sophia settled down beside the man in the . The warmth from the fire feeling good in the chill of the setting sun. “How many days have you been here?”
“A full moon cycle and then some.”
“A month? All alone?”
“Yes. Until I saw you, shimmer on the beach and appear like a magic. A mirage caused by the light, capturing my heart and soul with not but a glance.”
She understood the feeling. He’d been nothing more than a brush stroke earlier today but now, in the fading sun, the sky a blaze in orange and pink, she wasn’t sure he was real, but intended to to find out. Drawn together by unseen forces she leaned in and touched his lips the way he had touched hers on the beach.
His head turned to hers and their lips met in a slow exploration, maybe to simply reassure each of them that the other was real, maybe something deeper. Archer was the first to pull away, but he tucked her carefully against his side and continued to stare at the fire.
The chill deepened as the sunset turned to night and Archer covered her with his leather coat and then tucked her back against his body. The rhythmic crash of the waves soon lulled her to sleep, wrapped in the arms of a ghost.
She woke up the next morning disappointingly home, alone in her own bed. Archer resigned to a dream and an image she had painted on a canvas. Tonight, she had a public exhibition of her work and was glad she had finished the acrylic painting of the shipwreck yesterday, even if it had haunted her dreams, the dark-haired pirate who had charmed her with a smile. She wondered if she would be able to sell the painting, and the dream attached, but loaded it into the car anyway.
Setting up her area in the gallery, she put the painting she now called ‘Wanderlust’ at the center of her display and went to the restroom to change into a formal dress. She shivered, gooseflesh raising on her arms as her thoughts wandered back to those moments by the fire, sheltered in the remains of the ship. She thought, if she could, she would trade the dullness of her current world to return to the time she’d shared with her pirate on the beach.
With her mind lost in the thoughts, her emotions whirling around her like a maelstrom, she didn’t see the tall man, she ran right into as she exited the ladies room, knocking herself flat on her back on the hard floor. Her heart all but stopped as she looked up into stormy gray eyes and took the offered hand. His gentle words warmed her to her soul and caused a gentle tide to stir in her heart as he said, “Hello, my mirage.”
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